


You're nobody until somebody loves you

by GirlOnFire33



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Drama, F/F, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlOnFire33/pseuds/GirlOnFire33
Summary: AU (no magic), and they’re all younger so somewhat OOC.After eighteen years of disappointing birthdays, unsuccessful homes and tragic circumstances, Emma is moved to Storybrooke in the hope that she can finally get the stability she needs to finish high school. Meanwhile, young millionaire fashion designer Regina Mills, is locked in a battle of wills with her Mother and struggling to retain control of her business. Baby Henry hangs in the balance, the link between the two women. Emma’s move will trigger a chain of events that is about to change their lives dramatically. Slow Burn SQ.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first OUAT story and my first story uploaded on AO3, please be kind. Some initial scenes/dialogue are based off scenes in One Tree Hill. So sue me… (please don’t). Enjoy!

**PROLOGUE**

_Nothing is so good it lasts eternity,_

_perfect situations must go wrong_

 

Two.

I feel safe. I am a Swan and my life is brilliant, normal and easy as breathing. I don’t know much else.

It’s my birthday and there’s chocolate cake with two fat little candles; there's laughter and singing. Mommy and Daddy tell me to make a wish, but I don’t know what to ask for. I say so and they laugh some more. It can be anything, they tell me with sparkling eyes. I barely blow them out without setting my blonde hair alight. I wish for more of this: more of this happiness, more of this laughter.

Five.

I look up at the whiteboard and see the numbers that I’ve learnt mean it’s my birthday. My teacher knows and smiles kindly. She calls me Emma Grimes, and I’m so used to Emma Manning I almost don’t answer. She wants me to go up in front of the class so they can sing. She chuckles when I tell her no, and gently pulls me up by my arm. I scream.

Mr Grimes tells the Nurse I’m a clumsy little tyke and then laughs loudly and winks at her. I hate his laugh. Usually, whatever he says before it is an untruth. I can tell, but I don’t know how to make the pretty Nurse understand. 

My head hurts from all the shouting Mr Grimes and my teacher and my Principal did before we got here. I feel better when he leaves to get coffee and the pretty Nurse finishes putting special hard bandages on my arm. She asks what happened and I tell her I fell down some steps. She asks which steps and I don’t know what to say. She looks at me funny when I tell her to ask Mr Grimes.

Seven.

My new social worker, Mark, uses a hairbrush to roughly brush my hair into a ponytail, and it hurts to move my head afterwards. He yells that it’s not normal for someone my age to have to move from foster home to group home so much. He shouts that the paperwork is horrendous. He tells me that I am an evil little shit who deserves to be punished. Crying on my birthday is not a new thing.

Eleven.

I kick the door until it shudders open. There’s graffiti on all the walls and glass littering the floor. I’m grateful for the flashlight I bought today because the lights don’t work and the last thing I need is my hands cut open – I need to be able to climb over fences and walls. They always find me when I run away, but I vow that this time they won’t. I’m older, faster, stronger, and more than aware of how Social Services work. 

I creep through the broken glass to an open doorway that leads into a smaller room with no windows. I want to sob in frustration when I flick my flashlight around and see a tatty old mattress with a boy sat atop it.

“I know you! You’re Swan. You kicked Dean’s ass in that fight last month,” the boy says in a reverent tone. I shine the light in his face and recognise him too.

“Neal Cassidy. What the hell are you doing here?” I ask impatiently. I don’t need more complications in a plan that’s already riddled with holes.

“Hiding of course,” he shrugs as if it’s obvious, “the Riley’s won’t even notice I’m gone. Bet that’s what you’re doing too.”

“Pastor Michael is back and trying to purge the home of unholy sinners,” I say, using my fingers to air quote, “He locked me in my room all weekend,” I say lightly, glancing around the space again and noticing little trinkets dotted around that belong to Neal. 

“I hate that fucker. Remember the time he— ”

“Yeah I probably do. Are you staying here long?” I interrupt him.

“As long as possible, yeah,” he says warily. I catch him staring at my duffle bag.

“Steal my shit, Cassidy, and you won’t have to worry about ever _walking_ out of here. I found this place weeks ago, so you better believe I’m staying.”

“Geez, I get it, calm down. I couldn’t care less if you stay… Might even be cool,” he murmurs the last part.

My superpower doesn’t seem to work on him, which is odd. I study his facial expression a while and it seems honest. I sit next to him on the mattress.

“Happy Birthday by the way,” he says nonchalantly and I can’t help but smile. Maybe we can be friends.

 

Thirteen _._

_“_ Oh Emma,” Rose gasps as two uniformed Police officers lead me into her tiny office and sit me down in the chair opposite her. My t-shirt is covered in blood; it’s the bright crimson that spurted out of my foster brother’s nose.

I zone out as they explain my crimes and hand her a slip of paper before they leave. She runs a hand through her shoulder-length hair as she reads whatever it is they’ve recommended this time. I try to keep my mind filled with blank static while we sit in silence.

I’m staring into space and jump when she crouches in front of me. She places her hands on my knees, looking up at me beseechingly. I can’t seem to look away from her wounded eyes. She’s been my social worker for a year and in that time, things have gone from bad to worse.

“They’re threatening to send you to a Juvenile Detention Centre, Emma. I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince them not to go through with it,” she says sadly, her thumbs rubbing circles on my jeans in comfort. A shiver runs through me. It can’t be that bad, I try to convince myself, but one look at her downcast expression seems to prove me wrong.

“Please, Rose, you know I wouldn’t do something like this without good reason! I needed to get away—”

“Emma, it doesn’t matter why you felt you needed to do it. It doesn’t matter that you’re a foster child. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been through hell and back to get to this point in your life. None of that matters when it comes to the law. All that matters in their eyes is that you’ve been arrested five times in the last two years and this time you put a teenager in the hospital!”

I didn’t know he was in hospital. I punched him because he wouldn’t take his hands off me. Hands that wanted nothing more than to ‘fuck you senseless’ —his exact words.

I can feel tears building up in my eyes. She has never shouted at me. I cringe as I remember Mark’s words from years before. I deserve to be punished. Maybe he was right.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t… I couldn’t think of any other way out…” I can’t finish. I didn’t tell the Police why I did it either. My voice is weak because there’s a lump in my throat. 

“I’m disappointed you didn’t feel you could come to me before it got to this point,” Rose says softly, the anger in her voice dissipating. She lifts herself up and, before I can protest, pulls me up from the chair and into a tight hug. I can feel my tears soaking her blouse.

“But that’s my fault,” she continues, speaking into my hair, “I thought the Conners were a good fit. I’m sorry you have to move again and I’m even more sorry that you were considering running. Juvy isn’t where you need to be. You’re not a bad person, I know that, and you should know that I’m not giving up on you. Not now and not ever, Emma.”

It’s not until the next day that I see the date on the court hearing papers. Another birthday gone.

Seventeen.

Time is crawling at a snail’s pace. From the time I was wheeled in on a gurney to now seems like a lifetime ago. The midwife comes in to check on me and I almost wish she didn’t bother because the last thing I need to see, when my lower body is engulfed in agonising spasms, is the look of pure condescension on her face.

She slides her hands over my swollen belly; touching, pulling and massaging in equal measure, finally declaring that labour should be over any minute now and the next set of nurses will be right in. I can’t help feeling like I’m at the bottom of their list of priorities. Teenage pregnancy is hardly endearing.

Any minute now, I chant silently. The contractions are barely seconds apart. I hear myself moaning, the groans a pitiful mixture of sadness and pain. Tears slip down my face and I curse at myself and Neal for being so typically young, naive and stupid. I won’t be keeping this baby boy who shares his birthday with me…

 

_But this has never yet prevented me,_

_wanting far too much for far too long…_

 

 


	2. Navigate Me

** CHAPTER 1  **

_It’s hard to see when the smoke clouds over your eyes,_

_And you lose focus as you’re losing all the time…_

 

Eighteen

 

>   * Be stable, mature, and flexible.
>   * Have the ability to advocate for a child.
>   * Be a team player with child welfare.
> 


 

Simply abide by three little sentences… And then follow a seven-stage process, get checked out by a case worker, and you can become a foster parent. Emma knows this, she knows it’s not easy to do. She is perfectly aware that the world is not some fairy tale with a happily ever after ending.

Emma also knows that she shouldn’t get worked up about the fact that her foster parents have all failed her. That’s the hardest part. She cannot understand how to this day her longest placement is the two years with the Swans that gave her her last name. Today is month nine, day number thirteen of life with the Woods: the day she packs up and leaves again.

She stares intently at the computer screen, at those three little life-changing sentences, and wonders if they _purposely_ missed out the words caring and loving, or if the foster system just doesn’t consider those things a priority. The reasons people end up sending her back are not what they claim. She can tell when people are lying so she knows that for a fact. 

We have our first baby on the way – there's not enough room for you anymore in our _three-bedroom house._ Because that makes perfect sense. Moving state – your social worker strongly recommends you live near to where you were found, in case your birth parents try to find you. Because they have clearly tried so hard for _eighteen years_. Our own kids are having some behavioural issues – we don't need you being a bad influence. A bad influence? She’s been in some fights. She never starts them, but always seems to end them…So maybe the last one is true, Emma admits to herself. 

Yet the list of cop-outs is endless because no one can ever bring themselves to utter the simple truth: ‘I don’t want you anymore.’

Emma is troublesome, even when she tries her utmost not to be. ‘You're not like the other kids we've fostered’, they all say repeatedly. But the best excuse has got to be the one foster mother number (who knows?) Donna gave her this time round. 

“Look, honey…” She says, with a familiar sympathetic smile that Emma’s learnt to recognise the meaning of over the years. “We just don’t think you’re right for us anymore.” 

She says this whilst standing directly in front of Emma, trying to hide the fact that her husband is smacking a younger boy in the other room. He got a D in a Math quiz. Stephen spanks the younger ones and Emma gets his belt across her thighs. She quickly finds it’s the same consequence for even the smallest infraction of the stringent house rules.

In the beginning, Donna comforts her afterwards with hugs and the whole: ‘it’s going to be alright, just don’t mess up again’ spiel. After about a month or so, Donna just shakes her head and locks Emma in her room until she can once more bear the sight of her. This is the worst part: the helpless feeling of being trapped in a room with two younger girls who expect Emma to act tough all the time. Even though her lower body is on fire and all she can ever think about is how her stomach feels like it’s cramping with hunger. 

Emma sighs and her fingers stall on the keyboard. The library is thankfully quiet, no one wanting to stay after school on a Friday night. The person she’ll really miss is Megan. At fifteen, she’s incredibly perceptive for her age. She always comes and snuggles up to Emma after a belting, even after being told to ‘fuck off and leave me alone’, a dozen or more times. Somehow, she knows Emma better than that; Meg knows her tough persona is only skin-deep. Somehow, without Emma ever telling her, she knows that Emma actually does like her being there — she needs that comfort. 

Thinking back to this morning, Emma can’t actually believe that Donna’s excuse snuck by her innate lie detector. Having four other foster kids, plus her, to bring up was always going to be a recipe for disaster. But then she overheard Donna on the phone this morning and, surprise surprise, she and Stephen have two siblings aged twelve and thirteen moving in later this week. Emma doesn’t know how they’re going to manage to squeeze another kid into that house. Maybe I should be grateful I’m being kicked out, she thinks cheerlessly. Poor Megan will have to —

 

“Told ya! Knew we’d find that freak _Swan_ in this dump. What kinda’ loser wears the same jeans and hoody every single day?” 

Emma turns just in time to see Shannen’s groupies fall about laughing, clustering around her like seagulls waiting for the next piece of juicy gossip to feed on. She hates people calling her by her last name and they clearly know that, Emma thinks bitterly. 

She quickly grabs her backpack and earphones, and stands abruptly – nearly knocking out one of the bimbos in the process – before looking her tormentor directly in the eye.

“I suppose you think you’re better than me because of those designer labels you wear? At least I have some self respect,” Emma retorts, her eyes flashing. 

Shannen is exactly the kind of girl she despises: a sex-crazed, excruciatingly naive, complete and total air-head. Apparently, at Brookeside High that makes you the most popular girl in school by default.

An awkward silence descends as Shannen tries to think of a comeback. Emma imagines she can almost hear the cogs whirring beneath her unreasonably perfect hair. I’ve gotten away with it, she thinks, and pushes through the gang blocking her escape route. Someone roughly grabs her arm and drags her back into the throng of angry Barbie dolls. Shannen tugs Emma towards her, positioning her lips right next to Emma’s ear.

“You can make smart-ass comments all you like _Woods_ , but in the end, it doesn't matter because you’re nothing,” she spits venomously.

“You have no friends except that ass-wipe boyfriend, _Neal_ , but even with him you have no life. You’re a little freak, and next time you even _think_ about bad mouthing me, remember, you could die tomorrow, and no one would give a damn.” 

A smirk of satisfaction adorns Shannen’s flawlessly made-up face as she steps back into her protective clique, instantly becoming the centre of their superficial worlds once more.

Neal _is_ my only friend and he’s been put back into Gold’s care in Storybrooke, Emma thinks. We only ever see each other when he can sneak out. She is just so damn right. Emma feels her cheeks burn as the girl’s words fully sink in. I have no life other than the stuff that I _have_ to do, which pretty much revolves around my foster family. Why does a petty brat have to be the one to point it out? 

Emma shoves her way through the crowd that has formed while she wasn’t paying attention and violently pushes open the library door. There’s a resounding crack as it smacks against the wall, but she barely registers the noise. It’s the sound of catcalls and jeers that echo in her ears. 

She runs down the steps and heads for the main parking lot, anger consuming her thoughts all the way. I only went to the stupid library in the first place because I was trying to kill time waiting for my social worker to show… Oh shit. I left the website open. Those guys only have to click back a few pages to my case file and they’ll find out just how much of a reject I really am: abandoned by the side of the road at birth.

 

Depressing thoughts absorb Emma to such an extent that Rose has to get out of the black SUV and wave at her before the teenager notices her presence. Emma slouches her way over, slides down in the back seat and slams the car door a lot harder than Rose probably would have liked.But she knows she can get away with it. When she isn't being a part-time social worker Rose is an elementary school teacher. Looking after people is what she lives for.

“Hey, Emma… What were you thinking about just now? You looked like you were going to wear a hole in the tarmac with all that pacing,” she states, concern marring her otherwise youthful face. It’s in her job description to ask about everything and worry like a parent would. Unlike most people Emma deems her worthy of at least a half-decent reply.

“Just people at school being idiots and calling me names, you know how it is,” she informs her and resigns herself to the fact that it will only get worse from now on, once Shannen tells the entire school body what an orphan Annie she is. Rose frowns but nods understandingly as Emma struggles to untangle her earphones – usually when she’s plugged into her music, the older woman knows to leave her in peace. 

“That’s really tough Emma, but hey, you know what? I think I have some news that’s going to cheer you up!” Rose shouts over the noise of a fuzzy radio station. Emma glances up at her half-heartedly as she fiddles with her seatbelt.

“We’ve managed to find you a new foster family, so you won’t have to go back to a group home tonight after all,” she tells Emma brightly. The teen realises she must look like a goldfish with her mouth hanging wide open because Rose is looking back at her and grinning. Emma quickly recovers her composure.

“We can get you settled in with your new family later on today,” she continues as she drives out of the parking lot, “And because you’ve done so well with this recent placement, we decided to place you with a large family again. They have five children at the moment, one is their own baby daughter, two are twins aged six, another is a girl aged sixteen and the last is a boy your age…” Rose looks at Emma in the rear-view mirror with arched eyebrows, searching for a reaction.

“It was a decision based on the fact that the larger family lifestyle seemed to have worked wonders for your behaviour, especially self-discipline wise.” 

Emma looks back at her social worker stoically. She knows what’s happening here: Rose is trying to tempt her into responding. She’s guessed once before about a foster parent ‘disciplining’ too harshly, but thus far has no evidence. Emma’s been very careful about there _being_ a lack of evidence. She knows she could tell Rose that she’s been playing at being a model high school student out of necessity. That she’s scared to death of her supposed father-figure and has been ever since she was in a fight at school. That the bruises lasted weeks instead of days. 

Yet the only thing speaking out would accomplish is an enquiry into possible child abuse, something she is not willing to participate in. It would equal four more kids back in the system while the enquiry is carried out. No matter how often she’s laid awake in agony, Emma refuses to be held responsible for other kids being put back in the system. Especially since for them, things aren’t so bad. She may not agree with Stephen and Donna’s disciplinary methods _at all,_ but they had a stab at caring for them and that counts for something in Emma’s book.

Rose sighs when Emma remains lost in thought, but suddenly perks up.

“Oh and I nearly forgot the best part. You’ll be moving to Storybrooke!”

“That’s… great,” Emma says weakly. Her heart is doing cartwheels, still too shocked to process everything Rose has just said. Her mind latches onto the logistics instead. 

“What’s going to happen with school?” she questions, inwardly groaning. There’s no bus service to Brookeside and from experience foster parents only drive the very youngest kids.

“Oh, I should have said before… This means you’ll be transferring to Storybrooke High. It’ll be like having a fresh start, Emma! You can forget about any mistakes you’ve made, any regrets, make some new friends...It’s a real opportunity,” she tails off, leaving her words to resonate through Emma’s mind. 

“And Emma, I want you to promise me you’ll do your best in your new classes.” 

Rose turns and looks at Emma sternly as they reach a set of traffic lights.

“We both know that your grades do not in _any way_ reflect your abilities. ‘She whose face gives no light, shall never become a star.’ ”

“Deep…” Emma responds sarcastically, but quickly tries to make amends when she sees Rose’s hurt expression. “How about I promise to _try_ , to try my best,” she says softly.

Rose continues to look at her expectantly in the rear-view mirror and Emma finally clues-in to what the woman wants.

“Oh, you were quoting um… William Blake,” she tells her, looking down and carefully putting her earphones in the right ears, trying not to blush at Rose’s triumphant grin. So what if in an attempt to escape real life she’s read so much poetry that she can identify authors from quotes? Emma finds herself channelling Rose’s optimistic energy and hoping that maybe this time, things will be different. She catches the end of the song she was listening to earlier and smirks at the frigging irony.

 

_And there's one last thing to do, it's waiting there on you_ _  
_ _Cut from this circle leave, it behind._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think of the Prologue and Chapter 1, if you have a second to comment :)


	3. Us Against the World

Chapter 2 

_Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground,_

_And start new, when your heart is an empty room, with walls of the deepest blue…_

 

“Well I’m off, love,” Killian drawls as soon as the couple’s car leaves the driveway.

“What? They literally just said it was us on babysitting duty tonight. _Us,_ Killian,” Emma says and glares at him, immediately irritated.

“Well the Rabbit Hole calls, and I must answer. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of it though, Swan, only Seniors of a certain… _calibre,_ go there,” Killian smirks and dons the long leather cape that Emma has noticed he wears everywhere, like some kind of swash-buckling pirate.

“Oh screw you! And my name is Emma, not Swan, just Emma. So go if you’re leaving, I’ll be fine with all these kids, business as usual and all that,” Emma says darkly.

“Of course, you’ll be fine. And you won’t tell Sean, or Ashley, where I went either, because you’re a good little girl, Swan. We all know it,” Killian says with a laugh that makes Emma’s skin crawl. He swiftly leaves the house before Emma can think to stand in his way, a bottle of whisky tucked under his arm and a flask in the other.

 

Emma turns back around, runs her hands through her hair and sighs, surveying the scene she’s been left with. Sound seems to be amplified in that moment. 

Robert and his twin Elisha are screaming about nothing, like only two very young children can. It doesn’t take Emma long to find the source. They have managed to delve into what looks like a bucketful of old halloween candy, before Emma finally snatches it out of reach. Their crocodile tears get too much for her, so she puts them off with a story about how too much candy makes your stomach lining soft, and all the food you eat will spill into your blood stream, and burst out of your skin. The story works and so she feels only _slightly_ guilty about telling scientific lies for the good of her own sanity. 

Elisha decides to watch Cinderella, for the eighth time since Emma’s arrival, and Robert, undeterred by Emma’s gross account, proceeds to scream for more candy. 

It doesn’t take long before Robert decides he wants control of the TV; Emma is busy feeding baby Alexandra and too late to prevent the wrestling match he starts with Elisha in front of Lily. Emma figures she _could_ ask Lily to help her out, she’s sixteen after all, but Killian said something about ‘leaving that one well enough alone’ (whatever that actually means), so Emma is tentative even though she knows now not to trust Killian as far as she can throw him. All Emma really knows for sure about Lily is that she keeps herself to herself and they’ve barely said two sentences to one and other. Considering they share a room it’s a pretty mean feat.

Lily looks pretty pissed off when Robert and Elisha try to make her play-fight with them and instead she turns on her heel, taking the notebook she was scribbling in to their shared room. 

Emma puts the baby down in her crib, having tried everything she can think of to stop her crying. Milk had helped marginally, then burping had calmed her momentarily, but Alexandra still wails as though she knows Emma is at her wit’s end. She turns to discovers the lounge is devoid of life. She has a sinking feeling that something somewhere is being damaged beyond repair by the twins, but she is past caring at this point. Emma officially just wants this night to end. She glances at the clock on the mantlepiece and groans to see it’s only 11pm, meaning it has barely been two hours since Killian left.

She collapses on the sofa and grabs the nearest pillow to shove over her head, simultaneously putting in her earphones. Emma can just about hear Alexandra’s incessant crying, Robert once again screaming for more candy in another room and the TV blaring in the background.

 

“Um…Emma?” 

“What?” she grunts, not meaning to sound so angry, she pushes herself up and removes her earphones from their position, as well as the comforting pillow-shield from her eyes.

“Do you… I mean I can… help, if you like?” Lily shoves her hands in her pockets and looks at the wooden floorboards as if they will swallow her up any second now, saving her from Emma’s reply to her proposal.

Emma feels weirdly intimidated by the girl, and it was even worse when she first moved in three weeks ago. Lily doesn’t talk much, but when she does it seems like everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. Like every word is precious or explosive – she hasn’t figured out which it is yet. But then maybe I’ve just misjudged her based on what Killian’s told me? Maybe she’s just really shy? Emma thinks, and tries to respond without missing a beat.

“If you’re sure you’re okay with it then yeah, I’d really appreciate your help. I mean, I used to look after kids at my other foster homes, but…” Emma says and trails off, unsure how to explain her inadequacy for this role without sounding like a complete idiot.

“You feel like you’ve been thrown in at the deep end,” Lily murmurs with a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “I should have offered earlier. I’m sorry,” she apologises quickly, her cheeks reddening slightly. Emma nods and thinks she might be right about the shyness.

“Better late than never,” Emma says shrugging, trying to put her at ease a bit, “let’s do this thing and then maybe we can actually get some sleep tonight.”

Lily looks up from her trainers for the first time and lets a dazzling smile show her agreement. 

 

*****

 

Lily was really holding out. Turns out she is quite the child minder when she puts her mind to it. Emma can’t help but wonder why she looked so uncomfortable earlier with the twins. 

Emma watches in awe of her as little Alexandra is the first to get what Emma jokingly calls ‘the Lily treatment’. Once Lily discovers that the baby's favourite toy today is a set of keys, Alexandra calms down enough to fall asleep in her arms. All Emma is left with to do is place the infant in her cot with a comforter – which even she can’t mess up. The twins are more of a challenge, but only marginally so with the miracle-girl on her side.

“You have to get Robbie in bed first, otherwise Eli complains it’s unfair because he’s younger by three minutes and all that,” Lily says rolling her eyes.

“Hold on…The yelling’s stopped. Where _is_ Robbie?” Emma wonders aloud, whilst Lily just laughs quietly and tells her she’ll find Elisha.

It takes a while but Emma finally discover Robert, his cute chubby cheeks are still red and tear-stained from screaming at her and his sister. He's fast asleep on a pile of dirty laundry in the kitchen. Before, Emma had been close to tearing her hair out because of this little boy, but now he looks angelically innocent. Emma clumsily gathers him up into her arms and carries him to the room he shares with Elisha. She tucks him in, silently revelling in how motherly it feels. Then she feels sick at the thought of parents and mothers and babies and her baby…

 

“Hey, earth to Emma?” Lily's lilting voice snaps her out of her cheerless thoughts of parenthood. “I was just saying…We’re done,” she says and starts to walk back into the lounge.

“Wait, Lily… Thank you, I couldn’t have done that without you,” Emma tells the girl whole-heartedly.Lily turns around slowly and nods, smiling in acknowledgment of the thanks. Then her expression becomes serious.

“Don’t let Killian take advantage of you. Next time, tell him to shove it or you’ll let Ashley and Sean know where he goes off to,” she says sincerely, sounding like she’s speaking from experience.

“I’m not a grass,” Emma says bluntly, but Lily just looks at her as though she’s grown two heads.

“I’m not saying actually tell them. If he believes there’s any chance you might, he’ll probably think twice before leaving you in the lurch again,” she reveals as if it’s obvious.

“You’re pretty smart, you know that?” Emma says fondly, smiling at her and following her out of Robert and Elisha’s bedroom. 

“So I’ve been told,” she smirks.

Emma feels a vibration in her back pocket and goes to glance at Lily apologetically, only to see an empty lounge and the door to their shared bedroom closing. She shakes her head slightly before grabbing her phone and flipping it open. The simple message has her grinning like a Cheshire cat.

 

**snuck out, meet u at our new spot pls? Miss u x**

 

Emma had told Neal about moving to Storybrooke the second she got out of Mary Margaret’s car after finding out herself. He has been trying to sneak out ever since. Emma can’t make her fingers tap fast enough.

 

**Sure. Be there in 20.**

 

Then as an afterthought, because all of a sudden her reply seems far too dispassionate.

 

**Missed you too, dumbass.**

 

Emma presses send and slips her hoody off the hook in the hallway.She is about to leave when sanity regains control of her addled brain. What about all the kids? She feels ridiculously irresponsible. She is going to have to ask Lily a favour. A big favour. We’ve only known each other three weeks... what are the chances she won’t simply take her own advice and threaten to grass me up? Emma thinks, but she has to try. She needs to see her best friend.

Emma knocks and opens the door to their shared bedroom. Lily is sitting on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest with the same notebook from earlier balanced on them, writing steadily. She looks up when Emma doesn’t say anything and her perceptive eyes take in the hoody she’s now wearing.

“Lily, I know it’s so, so wrong of me to ask this, especially after you just helped me when you didn’t need to, or have to, but-”

“Go,” she says and then continues working on whatever she has in front of her. 

“I’m sorry?” Emma solicits, certain she has misunderstood the girl’s meaning or Lily has misunderstood what she’s asking.

“You want to go meet someone, and it’s obviously someone important to you or else you wouldn’t be asking me. So just go. It’s whatever, Emma. Just make sure you’re back before Sean and Ashley are.” 

She doesn’t look up from her writing. Emma is across the small room and hugging her small frame before she fully realises what she’s doing. Lily’s book drops to the floor as she stiffens and Emma feels awful for imposing on her like this.

“Sorry,” Emma says, retracting her arms to reach down and pick up the girl’s book.

“Don’t!” She cries suddenly, causing Emma to freeze in her actions as Lily picks up the book herself and shuts it warily. She looks back up at Emma with hurt-filled eyes and she can tell she’s crossed some invisible line.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says again, and uncertain what else she can say to appease her makes the snap-decision, “I’ll just stay.”

Emma gulps as her brain catches up with her mouth. Neal only manages to sneak out about once a month, though he claims he does it much more. 

“Emma, go. Just go. I won’t say it again,” Lily commands, her cold voice signifying that some sort of invulnerable shield has been put up against the world once more. 

“Thank you,” Emma whispers and quickly leaves before either girl changes her mind. 

Emma runs through the quiet streets in her excitement. The shadows that would ordinarily make her cringe instead only serve to speed up her pace. She reaches the trashed up bench opposite the clock tower they had decided to make their new meeting spot.

 

She steadies her breathing as she crosses the road towards Neal, who’s already sat around looking bored. His annoying position means that the lack of light is obstructing any view of his face. He could’ve grown a beard for all Emma knows: she hasn’t had a glimpse of him in over two months. That’s why tonight is so important.

 

“Hey stranger,” Emma says and laughs as he jumps, not realising she’s right beside him. 

“Hey yourself,” he replies gruffly, but his brown eyes are sparkling in the way that Emma once loved. His wavy dark hair has grown a few inches since she last laid eyes on him and it makes him look younger somehow. He’s taller too and skinnier – no beard though.

“You just gonna sit there or does your best friend get a hug?” she asks quietly, hoping their relationship hasn’t been affected too much by the long separation. They still message nearly everyday. 

He stands up awkwardly and Emma wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest as she feels his arms enclose her shoulders, holding her tight. She breathes in his familiar smell and a wave of nostalgia hits her.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed seeing you,” Emma tells him, internally kicking herself a second later for revealing her thoughts first. 

“I think you have that backwards,” he replies, causing Emma to chuckle lightly. 

After her pregnancy their romantic relationship came to a bitter end. Emma was hurt, and lashed out, avoiding Neal until he begged her to forgive him for not being there through it all. They were never intimate again. People assume they are still a couple, even Rose, but Emma knows herself well enough now to know, that she will never let herself be vulnerable with a man again.

 

They release each other and sit down, pleased to stay in their own thoughts for a while. Emma leans back against Neal’s chest and steals his warmth. Finally, she remembers something she can tell him.

 

“I’m starting Storybrooke High on Monday, my transfer papers have gone through.”

“Only two more days of freedom, that sucks,” he grimaces and muffs up her hair playfully.

“I’m kinda looking forward to it in a way,” she admits and he looks at her like she’s suddenly sporting a moustache, “Not the lessons you idiot, just the chance to start somewhere new and make some friends,” Emma says quickly, amending her treacherous remark.

“In the middle of the year? With Storybrooke cliques? Good luck with that one,” he scoffs and she looks away to hide her downcast expression.

“Yeah, I bet they’re all fakes like everyone in my old school anyway,” she says light-heartedly, trying to laugh but failing miserably.

“Emma, don’t listen to me. I’m an idiot,” he places his hand on hers in a comforting gesture, “You’ll make loads of great friends, all much better than me,” he adds with a half-smile. Emma squeezes his hand till he looks up and their eyes connect.

“I don’t need any other best friends but you,” she enlightens him in a solemn tone, “I don’t think I could handle the drama,” she adds sarcastically, ruining the moment. At least it makes him laugh for the first time all evening.

“I see how it is,” he murmurs and she observes how his forehead furrows before he asks, “When we were texting a while ago, didn’t you say you were worried about something to do with school?” 

Leave it to Neal to remember that specific insecurity I mentioned in passing over a week ago, Emma thinks.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna sound stupid to you because you’re a guy, and guys don’t care about that kinda stuff...” Emma does not want to talk about this with him, but at the same time craving his advice. 

“Try me. When have I ever judged you?” He’s right, he hasn’t – not ever. Which is one of the main reasons they have remained firm friends throughout all the long years of foster care and even through their baby’s birth and closed adoption.

“Okay here it is. I literally have no clothes to wear to school. I’ve been wearing this same ripped jeans and hoody combo for like a year now because Stephen didn’t believe in giving an allowance,” Emma confesses in one big breath, with more than a hint of embarrassment at the fact that it bothers her so much. Shannen’s comments are still fresh in her mind.

“That’s not stupid at all, it’s screwed up that they never gave you money for simple stuff like that,” Neal says and Emma notices him looking down guiltily at his own Levis, which both of them know Gold’s money laundering pays for. 

“There’s this shop that started up around here pretty recently called something dumb like ‘Royal Mills’. Anyways, it’s new so they have, like, no security set up yet. I bet you could lift a few things easy,” he says with a glint in his eyes. 

Of the two of them, Neal has always been the most comfortable with breaking the law. His reasoning being that the whole system has let them down, so why should they abide by it? Emma understands the logic, she just doesn’t usually agree with it. Yet she still finds herself stealing sometimes, when her moral judgement takes a backbench and necessity wins out.

“I don’t know, dude. Rose’s been going on at me. She wants me to keep my head down here or else she says she’ll bring me to the attention of the agency again,” I lie through my teeth because luckily Neal wouldn’t know any different: it has happened before.

 

“Rose, really? Come on! You know she won’t follow through - that woman’s soft as hell when it comes to you. It’s just some richer-than-God mogul that owns the shop anyway… what harm can it do? And just the other day you said you’re sick of people pitying you,” Neal says and Emma can feel myself herself being persuaded by the picture he is painting. He’s right – what harm can it really do in the grand scheme of things? If the owner’s well off anyway, what do they care if a few things ‘go missing’? 

“I can always just take a couple of things now and ask Ashley and Sean for money once I know them better…” She says slowly.

“Exactly,” he beams at her and Emma smiles back. A thought falls unbidden into her mind and she can’t seem to shake it. Emma sighs and unsteadily gets to her feet, her legs have gone to sleep.

“What’s up?” Neal asks worriedly.

“Nothing, I just have to go. I have to be home before my foster parents realise I left Lily in charge of babysitting.” 

“I’m gonna have to learn a whole new set of family names now, aren’t I? That is, if you’re going to stick it out?” He implores, knowing that more often than not Emma finds herself invisible in foster homes. She doesn’t make a fuss like some kids, so foster parents tend to forget about her. They cash the cheques, she shows her face every once and a while when Mary Margaret comes calling.

“We like Lily, she just did me a massive favour. The twins are Robert and Elisha and they’re classic troublemakers – but then they’re only six and they’ve only been moved once, so I can’t blame them. Then there’s baby Alexandra, who’s the Herman’s actual birth daughter. She’s cute. Killian’s our age and a big-headed ass – we don’t like him,” Emma explains, ticking them off on her fingers as she does so.

“You didn’t answer my other question,” Neal reminds her.

“Maybe I don’t know yet… From what I’ve seen of the parents, they don’t seem too bad. They don’t beat the kids and there’s enough food to go around. But I’ll probably find somewhere else to sleep soon anyway,” she divulges, pleased to get those thoughts off her chest.

“Why’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious. 

“Too many people. Too little privacy. Too much pressure,” Emma lists plainly and her best friend of seven years asks no further questions; he already knows about her tendency to run when expectations are high, so there’s no need. He only nods in understanding and makes a circular motion on the back of Emma’s hand with his thumb. The soothing feeling is exactly as she remembers it used to be, back in the days when they lived in an old run-down shelter together and later yet another group home.

“I’ll try and meet you at Granny’s after school sometimes. It’s this diner up on Main Street. My dad might not mind if it’s only to hang out with you,” Neal says, though the uncertainty in his voice is easy for Emma to hear. Mr Cassidy — nicknamed Gold because of his lucrative pawn shop and the fact that he practically owns Storybrooke with his bonds and leases — is manically overprotective and both know that he _will_ mind. She lets Neal’s false promise slide for now.

“I’ll look forward to it. Bye dude,” Emma impulsively gives him a quick peck on the cheek and struts away, smirking to herself at the expression of shock on his face. 

“See ya, Emma!” He calls after recovering his senses. Emma laughs properly for the first time in far too long.

 

_'Cause all you see is where else you could be, when you're at home;  
Out on the street are so many possibilities, to not be alone…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly longer chapter for you, I hope you enjoyed it. Slightly Neal-centric I know. I wanted to show that their friendship is an important one to Emma, so I hope that came across. Let me know what you thought :)


End file.
